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Physics

Pluto is now undecidedthough that does not seem to trouble many.It was one thing to be a god,albeit always thought of as lesser,for that is what happens whenyou rule a place no one wants to visit,like being the greeter at the doorof the largest Wal-Mart in Hell.It was nice being a planet, evenif no one ever visited, but thatwas taken away by thosewho now deem themselves gods,replacing all of his peers and consigning them to orbita star that has no real name.But now they say, just perhaps,Pluto is a planet, and that has given rise to a debate, while no one asks Pluto’s opinion, and hejust wants to be left alonein his dark corner of the solar system.

Walking on ice is easy, althoughyou must be careful not to slipfor the fall can be damaging, butwalking on water is impossibleunless you are not you, and hehas returned in your bodywhich we all find highly unlikely,although the difference betweenyou is a simple state of matter. The question, then, is do yousee any real difference between the two of youand if not, he may well smileas you together disappearinto a thick cloud of steam.

He had always wanted to be a scientist. He wasn’t particularly good at math, biology or any of the other sciences, but dreaming didn’t require that sort of aptitude. He imagined he was part of a great scientific breakthrough, something that would change man’s understanding of the universe and life itself. He knew such discoveries were few and far between, but they did happen, so he had a shot. Then, reading some science magazine he discovered his quest. He would find the God particle. He wasn’t sure what that was, but he knew it shouldn’t take a great mind and a magnifying glass to find a particle that looked somewhat like him.

What is there in a yawn that has time inexorably slow, flattening notes by some unknown but ever constant fraction of a tone so that each lingers painfully before proceeding? A moment is locked in place, frozen like Schroedinger’s cat before observation.

He asked her what she did, andthe question surprised her. Mostdidn’t ask that until much later on,but she replied, “I am a historian.”He said, “Isn’t that an odd profession,”quickly adding, “and I don’t mean for a woman.”“It is,” she smiled, “but I fell in lovewith history as a young girl, and I’ve been fortunate to watchstars being born and die, galaxies appearas if from nowhere, seen eventsthat happened before our own sun was born.”She could see he was confused, perhapsthat he thought her mad as others had.She calmly added, “You understand,I am an astronomer and all I seeis the history of our universe.”

Between this point and thatlies a vast uncharted spacenoted on every cartographers chart.If you ask how thiscould be possible, I replyit’s like listening to silenceand hearing each sounddeeply embedded in the onenext to it, a glissando ofwhat exactly? Uncertainty?That is the whole pointin the final analysis, forbetween that point and this oneeverything exists in that one place.